Chapter 61: Chapter:61 Akeno opined
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"In the end, a Hero is simply ’Someone Who Kills Monsters’," Shirou proclaimed, even as a golden light filled his hands "so why nit-pick over how they get the job done?"
Play: FitnessGlo - Time Bomb.
Judging the concept of creation...
From its inception, it had been used to determine the One True King.
Hypothesizing the Basic Structure...
A Long-sword embroidered with Blue and Gold, the runes along the blade denote its purpose.
Duplicating the Composite Materials...
Only the Finest Steel could bear such majesty, passed down from antiquity.
Imitating the Production Process...
Descended from the Sword of the Sun, it burned all that opposed it in brilliant light.
Sympathizing with the Experience of its Growth...
From the moment it was drawn, those it chose ascended beyond mere mortality
Reproducing the accumulated years...
From Ancient Babylon to Northern Europe, it eventually found its way to a stone in Briton,
Excelling every manufacturing process...
It was the Holy Sword which bestowed the Divine Right of Kingship on those deemed worthy. Though forever lost, those who aspire to glory still seek The Golden Sword of Victory...
As Xenovia and the Devils looked on in wonderment, the light in Shirou’s hands intensified to the point it resembled the morning sun. As Devils, those who were most at home in the darkness, such intense light should have weakened them, to say nothing of the effect of the Holy Aura on their injured forms. And yet, for some reason none of them could fathom, they found themselves unable to avert heir eyes, drawn to it not like moths to a flame, but rather a lost child upon finding its mother.
This was not a ’Sword of God’ but rather a ’Sword of Man’. While it was a Holy Sword of the highest calibre, it had only ever been meant for the hands of mankind. As such, it could never be used to harm an innocent, regardless of their race, nor would it allow itself to be used to commit an ignoble act. Indeed, the last time someone had attempted to do so, the Blade had failed them and been forever lost.
It was a sword that should not exist, COULD not exist anymore. A dream of a bygone age that, once forgotten, could never be viewed again no matter how the heart may yearn for it. And yet here it shone, as bright as the day it was forged. Drawn from the Hill of Swords that rested within his soul, The Golden Sword that Chooses the King shone brightly in Shirou’s hand.
"It can’t be..." Kiba breathed, the Gremory Knight dropping to his knees, tears streaming from his eyes unchecked as he gazed uncomprehendingly at the sight before him, his heart swelling with emotions he thought he’d long-since buried along with his comrades "I...wanted to destroy that...?"
It was unthinkable. Such a sword should never have been destroyed. Indeed, gazing upon it, he could actually understand Valper Galilei’s mad obsession with re-forging it, and why his friends bore no grudge against the man despite being sacrificed for his mad ambition.
"That light..." Kokabiel whispered, the Fallen’s struggles ceasing as he gazed reverently at the sight of the Golden Sword held in Shirou’s hands, the expression on his face one of wonderment, almost longing "it cannot be...this cannot be real..."
"In a sense you are right." Shirou admitted, his tone almost sad as he raised the sword "Even at my best, this is but a pale imitation of the real thing..." his eyes hardened as he firmed the resolve "Even so, there’s no law saying a copy can’t surpass the original."
He braced himself, teeth clenching and hair spiking up as he pumped every last drop of Prana he had into the blade, the Golden Sword of Victory shining ever brighter even as the chains holding Kokabiel shattered as the Prana manifesting them was diverted.
It would have been so easy for the Fallen to attack at that moment. Even wounded as he was, it wouldn’t have taken a second for him to summon a Spear or Sword of Light to impale the Faker before him, before turning his attention to the Devils littering the grounds behind them.
But Kokabiel did not move. No, the Fallen Star of God merely knelt before that impossible sword, tears streaming from his eyes as he found himself unable to look away from the Divine Light that had anointed Humanity’s most Beloved King, the same light from which he had been born untold Millennia ago, only to turn his back on it, unable to compare to its radiance.
"Father..." he croaked, his features filled with an almost childish innocence and longing as he reached out with his one good hand as if to touch some ever-distant figure only he could see deep within the glow "Oh Father...Forgive me..."
"CALIBURN!" Shirou roared, the Golden Sword of Victory shining like a miniature sun in his hands as he brought it down on the Fallen Star of God, Kokabiel’s form vanishing under the intense pillar of light that burned all in its path, blinding all those watching from the sidelines with its intensity.
As such, none but Shirou saw as, just before he was swallowed by the light, Kokabiel’s face relaxed into a wondrous, beautiful smile, the years of bitterness, resentment and pain that had warped him in life falling away to be replaced by almost childish innocence. Nor did they hear the words the Fallen whispered, so soft as to be non-existent over the roar of Caliburn’s cleansing light.
"Thank you."
As the light fades...
"Is...Is it over?" Issei whispered, the pawn raising his head hesitantly, Asia blinking in concern from her spot in the Pawn’s arms, Issei having leapt to cover her with his body the moment Shirou had pulled...whatever the hell that was out of his ass.
"I think so..." Akeno opined, the normally confident Queen’s tone laced with uncertainty as she gazed through the dust that had arisen following the flash of light "I can’t sense Kokabiel’s presence anymore...it’s just...gone."
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